Ãcariya Mun said that, excepting the few who had
visited large towns in the region, most of the hill
tribe people in Chiang Mai had never seen monks
before. Early in his travels, Ãcariya Mun and
another monk went to live in the mountains about a
mile and a half from a hill tribe village. They
camped in the forest, taking shelter under the
trees. In the morning, when they went to the village
for alms food, the villagers asked why they had
come. Ãcariya Mun said they had come to collect
alms. Puzzled, the villagers asked him what that
meant. Ãcariya Mun explained that they had come to
collect offerings of rice. They asked him if he
wanted cooked rice or uncooked rice. When he said
cooked rice, they got some and put a little in each
of their alms bowls. The two monks then returned to
their camp and ate the plain rice.

Lacking faith from the very beginning, the villagers
were very suspicious of the monks. That evening the
village headman sounded the bamboo clapper to call
everyone to a meeting. Referring to Ãcariya Mun and
his disciple, he announced that there were now two
‘tigers in disguise’ staying in the nearby forest.
He said that he had yet to determine what kind of
tigers they were, but they weren’t to be trusted. He
forbade the women and children to enter the forest
in that area; and men who went were warned to go
armed and in groups lest they should be attacked by
the two tigers.

As it happened, Ãcariya Mun was beginning his
evening meditation at precisely the time the
announcement was made to the village community. So,
Ãcariya Mun, who was the object of this warning, was
also privy to the whole affair. He was deeply
saddened by the senseless accusations; but, instead
of feeling angry or discouraged, he felt only
ineffable loving compassion for the local villagers.
He was concerned that the majority might naively
believe such slanderous talk and, therefore, be
burdened by its dreadful moral consequences until
they died – at which time they might well be reborn
as tigers. Early the next morning, he informed his
disciple of what he had seen.

“Last night the village headman assembled everyone
and announced that we are ‘tigers in disguise’. We
were both accused of being tigers who are disguised
as monks in order to deceive them into trusting us
so that we can then destroy both their persons and
their properties. Because of this, they have no
faith in us at all. If we were to leave here now
while they still harbor these negative thoughts,
they may all be reborn as tigers when they die – a
grievous kamma
indeed. So for their benefit, I think it’s
incumbent on us as monks to remain here and put up
with the situation
for a while. We must endure the ensuing
hardships until they’ve changed their attitude
before we move to another location.”

Not only did the villagers distrust them, but groups
of three or four armed men often came to keep an eye
on them. Sometimes, they stood watching from a
distance. But at other times, seeing Ãcariya Mun
walking meditation, they came closer and stared at
him from the end of his walking path, or from the
side of it, or even stood right in the middle of it.
They glanced around, surveying the whole area for
about 10 to 15 minutes, then left. This surveillance
routine continued
day after day for many weeks.

The villagers showed no concern whatsoever about the
personal welfare of these two ‘tigers’. They were
not interested in whether or not they had enough
food and other necessities to survive. Thus, the
living conditions of these two tigers were difficult
in the extreme.
The most they received on almsround was plain rice.
On some days, it was just barely enough to satisfy
them; on other days, it wasn’t nearly enough, even
though they drank a lot of water with it as well.

Since there was no cave or cliff
overhang in
which they could take shelter, they lived and slept
under the trees, putting up with
exposure to
the sun and the rain. When it rained in that area,
it tended to rain all day. After the rain abated and
things dried out a bit, they went looking for dry
leaves and grasses to construct a make-shift
thatched roof, giving them some limited protection
against the weather. It provided enough cover to
survive from day to day, albeit with much
discomfort. When it rained heavily, they sheltered
under their tent-umbrellas with the cloth sheeting
hanging down around them as protection against the
cold wind. Often the rain was accompanied by strong
winds that came howling down out of the mountains,
blowing their umbrellas, soaking their belongings,
and leaving both monks drenched and shivering. If it
happened during the daytime, they could at least see
what they were doing while collecting their
requisites to look for some cover. But when it
occurred at night, the situation was extremely
trying. They were unable to see even as the rain
poured down and the cold wind blasted through the
trees, causing branches to break off and crash down
around them. They were never sure of surviving this
onslaught of rain, wind, cold, and loose debris
flying at them from all directions. During such
hardships, they just endured the best they could.
They had to abide the heat, the cold, the hunger,
the thirst, and the uncertainty of their existence
while they waited for the villagers’ mistrust to
subside. Even though they received only plain rice,
their supply was, at best, erratic. Drinking water
was hard to come by; so they had to walk down to the
foot of the mountain to fill their kettles, carrying
the water back up to serve their daily needs.
Despite such an impoverished existence, the
villagers showed no sympathy for their plight.

In spite of the hardships, Ãcariya Mun felt free of
anxieties and responsibilities as his meditation
practice progressed unhindered. He took great
pleasure from listening to the calls of the various
wild animals in the surrounding forest. Seated in
meditation under the trees late at night, he
constantly heard the sounds of tigers roaring close
by. Curiously, those huge tigers rarely ventured
into the area where he was seated. Occasionally, a
tiger did approach Ãcariya Mun. Perhaps, suspecting
him to be wild game, it snuck in to have a look. But
as soon as the tiger saw him make a move, it leapt
off into the forest in alarm, and was never seen
again.

Nearly every afternoon, three or four men came to
check them out. They stood around whispering among
themselves without a word to Ãcariya Mun, who, in
turn, ignored their presence. When they arrived,
Ãcariya Mun focused his citta on their thoughts.
They, of course, never suspected that he knew what
they were thinking or what they were whispering
about. It’s unlikely they even considered the
possibility that someone could be privy to their
thoughts, which they indulged in unrestrainedly.
Ãcariya Mun focused his attention on everyone who
came. As was to be expected of a reconnaissance
party, he discovered that they were primarily
looking to find fault with him in some way. Instead
of taking precautions against such findings, Ãcariya
Mun responded with great compassion. He knew that a
majority of the villagers were subject to the
corrupting influence of a small minority.

Ãcariya Mun remained at this site for many months;
yet, the villagers persisted in trying to catch him
at suspicious doings. Their sole purpose was to find
him doing something that would confirm their worst
fears. Although they were sincerely committed to
this, they never tried to chase him away: they
merely took turns spying on him. The villagers must
have been surprised that despite their consistent
surveillance for months, they still couldn’t catch
him doing anything wrong.

One evening while sitting in meditation, Ãcariya Mun
became psychically aware that the villagers were
assembled for a meeting concerning his case. He
could hear the village headman questioning the
others about the results of their surveillance:
What had they been
able to determine so far? Those, who had
taken turns observing the two monks, said the same
thing: they could find no evidence to confirm their
suspicions. They were worried that their suspicious
attitude might be doing them more harm than good.

“Why do you say that?” The headman wanted to know.

They replied: “As far as we can tell, there’s
nothing in their conduct to confirm our assumptions
about them. Whenever we go to check them out, either
they are sitting still with their eyes closed, or
they’re calmly pacing back and forth, not looking
here and there like most people do. People who are
tigers in disguise, poised to attack their prey,
would hardly behave like that. These two monks
should have exhibited some sort of incriminating
behavior by now, but we’ve seen nothing so far. If
we keep treating them like this, we may suffer the
consequences. The correct approach would be to speak
with them to find out about their motives. Presuming
their motives to be sinister may well reflect badly
on us all.

“Good monks are hard to find. We have enough
experience to tell good monks from bad ones. These
monks deserve our respect. Let’s not hastily accuse
them of treachery. To find out the whole story,
let’s go speak with them. Let’s ask them why they
sit still with their eyes closed, and why they pace
back and forth – what are they searching for?”

A decision was reached at the meeting to send a
representative to question the monks. In the
morning, Ãcariya Mun spoke to his companion: “The
villagers are beginning to have a change of heart.
Last night they held a meeting about their
surveillance of us. They have decided to send
someone here to question us about their suspicions.”

Just as Ãcariya Mun foresaw, a village
representative arrived that very afternoon to
question him: “What are you searching for when you
sit still with your eyes closed, or pace back and
forth?”

“Buddho is the most precious gem in the three worlds
of existence – a jewel of all-pervading knowledge.
If you help me find it, that’ll be excellent. Then
we will all see buddho quickly and easily.”

“Has your buddho been missing long?”

“To begin with, sit or walk for about 15 to 20
minutes at a time. Buddho doesn’t want you to spend
too much time searching for it yet. It’s afraid
you’ll grow tired and so be unable to keep up with
it. Losing interest, you will not want to search
anymore. Then you’ll miss it altogether. This is
enough to get you started. If I elaborate any
further, you won’t remember it all, thus
jeopardizing your chances of meeting buddho.”

With these instructions in mind, the villager
returned home. He didn’t take leave of Ãcariya Mun
in any special way, because that was not the hill
tribe custom. Deciding that it was time to go, he
simply got up and left. As soon as he arrived at the
village, everyone gathered around to hear what had
taken place. He explained why Ãcariya Mun sat still
with his eyes closed and why he paced back and
forth: he was searching for the precious gem buddho
and not, as they had presumed, because he was a
‘tiger in disguise’. He then explained Ãcariya Mun’s
brief instructions on how to find buddho. Once the
villagers knew the method, everyone – from the
headman on down to the women and older children –
began to practice, mentally repeating ‘buddho’.

Several days later, something truly amazing
happened. The Dhamma of the Lord Buddha arose
clearly in the heart of one of the villagers. While
mentally repeating the word “buddho” over and over
again as Ãcariya Mun had suggested, one man in the
village found Dhamma: his heart attained a state of
peace and calm. A few days earlier, the man had
dreamed that Ãcariya Mun was placing a very large,
bright-shining candle on top of his head. The moment
Ãcariya Mun set the candle on his head, his whole
body, from the head on down, was brightly
illuminated. He felt overjoyed as the radiance,
spreading out around him, illuminated the
surrounding area as well. Soon after he attained
this state of tranquility, he went to tell Ãcariya
Mun about his achievement, and about the amazing
dream he had prior to it. Ãcariya Mun then gave him
additional instructions on how to proceed with his
practice. As it turned out, his progress was very
quick: he was soon able to psychically know other
people’s thoughts. He informed Ãcariya Mun of this
very matter-of-factly in the forthright manner
typical of forest people.

Sometime later, this man declared to Acariya Mun
that he had examined Ãcariya Mun’s citta and had
clearly seen its characteristics. Playfully, Ãcariya
Mun asked if he could see much evil in his citta.
The man answered without hesitation, “Your citta has
no focal point whatsoever – only an absolutely
incredible radiance shining within. Your preeminence
is unrivaled anywhere in the world. I’ve never seen
anything like it. You’ve been here about a year now,
why didn’t you teach me about this right from the
beginning?”

“How could I teach you? You never came to ask me any
questions.”

“I didn’t know you were a supreme master. Had I
known, I’d have come for sure. Now we all know
you’re an extremely clever person. When we came
asking you why you sat still with your eyes closed
and what you were looking for as you paced back and
forth, you told us your buddho was lost and asked us
to help you find it. When asked to describe it, you
said buddho is a bright, sparkling jewel, but in
truth the real buddho is your heart. The missing
buddho was simply a clever ploy to persuade us to
meditate on buddho so that our hearts could become
bright like yours. Now we realize that you’re a
supremely wise person whose only desire was for us
to discover the supreme buddho in our own hearts,
thus ensuring our long-term welfare and happiness.”

The news of this man’s attainment of Dhamma spread
rapidly through the community, further arousing
everyone’s interest in buddho meditation so that
even small children took it up. Their faith in
Ãcariya Mun thus reinforced, their reverence for his
teaching steadily increased. No one ever mentioned
‘tigers in disguise’ again.

From that time on, the man who had learned to
meditate carried Ãcariya Mun’s alms bowl back to his
forest retreat every day after the almsround. After
Ãcariya Mun finished eating, he would then seek
advice on his practice. On the days when he had
business to attend to, he told someone to inform
Ãcariya Mun that he wouldn’t be available to carry
the alms bowl. Although quite a few men and women in
the village learned to meditate, this first man was
the most accomplished.

When people are satisfied, everything else naturally
falls into place. For instance, previously these
people were not the least bit interested in how
Ãcariya Mun ate or slept, or even whether he lived
or died. But later when faith and respect arose in
them, those things that previously were scarce soon
became plentiful. Without having to be asked, the
villagers joined forces to make him a walking path.
They also built him a hut and a platform on which to
sit and have his meal. When they came to help, they
disguised their praises of him in
reproachfultones.

“Look at that walking meditation path. It’s all
overgrown with vegetation. You’d have to be a wild
boar to penetrate that thicket. And yet, you still
insist on walking there. You’re really weird, you
know. When we ask you what the path is for, you say
it’s a place to search for buddho – I’ve lost my
buddho. When asked why you sit still with your eyes
closed, again you say you’re looking for buddho.
Here you are a supreme master, yet you don’t tell
anyone about it. You’re the strangest person we’ve
ever known, but we like you just the way you are.
Your bed is a carpet of moldy smelling leaves strewn
over the ground. How could you stand it all these
months? It looks like a pig’s lair. Looking at it
now, we feel so sorry for you we could cry. We were
very stupid, all of us. We didn’t realize what a
wonderful person you are. Worse than that, a few of
us accused you of having sinister motives,
convincing the rest to dislike and distrust you.
Finally now the whole village trusts and reveres
you.”

Ãcariya Mun said that, when hill tribe people
decided to trust and respect someone, their belief
was heartfelt and unequivocal. Their loyalty was
unconditional – they would sacrifice their lives if
they had to. They took what they were taught to
heart, conducting themselves accordingly. As they
became more familiar with the method and more
proficient in their practice, Ãcariya Mun taught
them to steadily increase the amount of time they
spent doing buddho meditation.

Ãcariya Mun stayed with those people for over a year
– from February of
one year to April of the following year –
until he finally left. However, because of his great
compassion for them, taking leave of them was very
difficult for him. They were very reluctant to see
him go. They assured him that, were he to remain
there until he died, the whole community would
arrange for his cremation. Those people were willing
to put their complete trust in him out of a deep
sense of love and devotion. Unmistakably, they had
seen for themselves the good results of his
teaching. And to their credit, they were smart
enough to see their own faults as well. Once they
came to know him as a truly virtuous, highly
respected monk, they realized their mistake and so
begged his forgiveness. He forgave them, later
telling his disciple that their
amends were
complete. This meant that the two of them were then
free to go somewhere else.

But taking leave of them was no simple matter.
Ãcariya Mun said
that it was moving beyond description to witness
their affection and deep devotion as they beseeched
him to stay. Having heard that he was
preparing to leave, the whole village came out,
weeping and pleading with him until the entire
forest was disturbed by the
commotion.
It sounded
as though they were mourning the dead. While
explaining his reasons for leaving, he tried to
comfort them, assuring them that such distress was
unwarranted.
He counseled self-restraint, which is the way of
Dhamma.

When
they calmed down, seemingly resigned to his
departure, he began to leave his forest retreat.
Then, something totally unexpected happened. All the
villagers, including the children, ran after him.
Surrounding him on the path, they proceeded to
snatch away his requisites. Some grabbed his
umbrella, his bowl, and his water kettle, while
others clutched at the robes he wore or clung to his
arms and legs, trying to pull him back again –
acting just like children. They were determined to
not let him go.

Ãcariya Mun was obliged once again to explain his
reasons for leaving, consoling them until they
calmed down. Finally they agreed. But no sooner had
he started walking off than the crying began and
they rushed to drag him back again. Several hours
passed before he eventually got away.
Meanwhile,
the whole forest was disturbed by noisy scenes of
hysteria that were heart-rending to watch. The
initial epithet ‘tigers in disguise’ meant nothing
to them then. In its place had arisen deep reverence
and attachment for a man of supreme virtue. In the
end, these hill tribe people couldn’t hold back
their emotions. As they gathered around him crying
and pleading, their many voices merged into a
crescendo: “Hurry back to visit us again. Please
don’t be gone long,
we miss you so much already it’s breaking our
hearts.”

Having arrived in the area surrounded by suspicion
and dissatisfaction, Ãcariya Mun departed amid
emotional scenes of affection and attachment. He had
managed to turn something
unseemly
into something beautiful, so enhancing its value
immensely –
as befits one ordained as a disciple of the Buddha.
The Buddha’s disciples never hold grudges or look to
blame others. Should anyone dislike them, they will
try to help that person with loving compassion. They
never take offense at other people’s misbehavior nor
do they harbor feelings of animosity that could lead
to mutual recriminations. A heart full to
overflowing with loving compassion inspires faith in
those ablaze with
kilesas by providing them with a peaceful,
dependable refuge.
A heart of such loving grace possesses virtuous
qualities that are unparalleled in the world.

Later when listening to Ãcariya Mun tell this story,
we couldn’t help sympathizing with the hill tribe
people. We formed in our minds a clear image of
those chaotic scenes in the forest – as though we
were watching a movie. We could imagine the
villagers’ potent faith, ready to sacrifice anything
for this man of supreme virtue. All they asked was a
chance to bask
in his aura
of loving kindness, thus continuing to enjoy a life
of prosperity.
So they cried and pleaded with him, clutching at his
arms and legs, pulling on his robes and other
requisites, until he returned to the small eating
platform with the thatched roof that had been a
source of such contentment. Though an incredibly
moving occasion, the time had come for him to
move on. No
one can possibly negate the transient nature of the
world. The driving principle of constant change
keeps everything moving – nothing can halt its
progress. For this reason, when the right time came,
Ãcariya Mun had to leave, though he fully understood
the position of those faithful villagers who were so
emotionally
attached to him.

Although Ãcariya Mun was once labeled a ‘tiger in
disguise’ by the hill tribe people, it is well known
that he was, in truth, a ‘pure
one’ who existed as ‘an incomparable field of merit
for the world’.8 Ãcariya Mun left that mountain
community in order to follow his natural inclination
– to be of the most benefit to the greatest number
of people.

Buddhism is a priceless inheritance that has always
been an integral part of our very existence. But,
perhaps it too could fall prey to insidious
accusations of being a ‘tiger in disguise’ much in
the same manner that Ãcariya Mun did. It could end
up being severely damaged by people whose views are
hostile to Buddhist principles and traditions. In
truth, this process has already begun, so we should
not be complacent. If we fail to fulfill our
obligations, we may forfeit this inheritance, only
to regret it later.

ÃCARIYA MUN FOLLOWED the way of sugato.When living
deep in the forests and mountains he was constantly
of service to the hill tribesmen, or else the devas,
brahmas, ghosts, nãgas, and garuðas【譯按：garuðas：大鵬金赤鳥，天龍八部之一，是龍族的天敵。】.
He was always compassionately assisting the world in
some way or other. In human society he taught monks,
novices, nuns, and lay people from all walks of life
without exception. People everywhere sought him out
to hear his instructions. They all gained an
enormous benefit from his teachings, always
delivered in a thorough,
coherent
manner that would be hard for anyone else to equal.

While he lived in the mountains of Chiang Mai, the
hill tribe people
received great joy, listening to his Dhamma
discourses in the
late afternoons.
Later at night,
he taught Dhamma to devas from various levels of
existence, always responding to their many
inquiries. Teaching devas was a
heavy
responsibility, since it was difficult to find
another monk with the same psychic skills to
stand in for
him. Teaching people was a responsibility that could
be delegated
to others – at
least the people listening would gain enough
understanding to derive some benefit if they made
the effort. Ãcariya
Mun’s relationship with devas of all realms was of
primary importance to him.So his biography is
interspersed with stories about them at different
times in different places, right to the very end.

Not so long ago I went to pay my respects to a
vipassanã kammaååhãna ãcariya of the highest
caliber, a senior monk with an
exceptionally
kind, gentle disposition who is
greatly
revered by monks and lay people all over
Thailand.When I arrived he was discussing Dhamma
with several of his close disciples, so I took the
opportunity to join them. We began by discussing
various practical aspects of Dhamma, eventually
coming around to the subject of Ãcariya Mun, who had
been his teacher. In the past, he lived under
Ãcariya Mun’s
tutelage in the remote mountains of Chiang
Mai, training with him at a forest retreat that was
several days walk from the nearest town. It’s hard
to find words to describe the many remarkable,
amazing stories he told me that day. I shall relate
the ones I feel are appropriate here, while the
others I shall skip, for reasons I explained
earlier.

This ãcariya said that, besides his
undoubted
purity of heart, Ãcariya Mun also possessed many
unique abilities that
inspiredawe in his
students and
assured their
vigilance at
all times. He said he couldn’t possibly remember all
of the strange, unusual stories he had
heard from
Ãcariya Mun; so, I urged him to tell me what he
could remember. His
words would serve as a memorial– a source of
inspiration for future generations. This is
what he said:

“Ãcariya Mun knew everything I was thinking – what
more can I say? I felt as though I were on a tight
leash day and night,
such was the
vigilance I applied to observing my mind.
Despite my best efforts, he could still catch my
errant
thoughts, publicly exposing them for everyone to
hear. My meditation
was actually quite good while staying with him,
but I couldn’t always prevent stray thoughts
from
arising【的產生】.
We should never underestimate the mind’s ability to
think incessantly,
day
and night – non-stop.
How many of us can
catch up with our thoughts long enough to restrain
them effectively? So I was constantly on
guard, for he was better at catching my thoughts
than I was! Sometimes, he brought up thoughts that
I’d forgotten having.
Suddenly, I
was made to recall thoughts that had long since
past.”

I asked the ãcariya if Ãcariya Mun had ever scolded
him. I asked the ãcariya if Ãcariya Mun had ever
scolded him. He told me:

“Occasionally he did;
but,
more often he read
my thoughts, then used them as a way of teaching me
Dhamma. Sometimes other monks were listening
as well, which really embarrassed me.
Fortunately,
if other monks sat listening, Ãcariya Mun never
revealed the
name of the offender – he merely spoke about the
relative merits
of the thoughts in question.”

I wanted to know why he thought Ãcariya Mun scolded
him sometimes. He said:

“Do you know the word
puthujjana?It
means a mind denser than a mountain of stone,
careening out of control. It doesn’t consider
whether thoughts are good or bad, right or wrong –
which was a sufficient reason for him to give a
scolding.”

I asked him if he felt afraid when Ãcariya Mun
scolded him.

“Why shouldn’t I have been afraid? My body may not
have been shaking, but my mind certainly was. I
almost forgot to breathe at times. I have no doubt
that Ãcariya Mun truly did know the minds of others

I experienced it
myself. He could
literally
collect all my thoughts, then confront me with them
later. For example,
from time to time I rather foolishly thought
about going off on my own. If such a thought
occurred to me at night, early the next morning, as
soon as I encountered him, Ãcariya Mun immediately
started lecturing me: ‘Just where do you think
you’re going? It’s far better here than anywhere
else. It’s best that you stay here with me …’ and so
on. He never let these thoughts pass undetected.
‘It’s more enjoyable here. Staying here and
listening to the Dhamma is better than going off on
your own.’ He never would consent to my going. I
believe he was worried that my meditation practice
might deteriorate, so he tried to keep me under his
tutelage the whole time.

“The thing that terrified me about him was, day or
night, whenever I decided to focus my citta’s
attention on him, I saw him staring back at me. It
seemed he never took a rest! There were nights when
I didn’t dare lie down because I could visualize him
sitting right in front of me,
scrutinizing
me every moment.
Whenever I focused my citta on external objects, I
invariably found him there looking at me. Because of
this, my mindfulness was constantly alert.

“As his students, we were forced to be mindful.
Following him on almsround, we carefully kept our
thoughts under control, restraining our minds from
straying beyond the confines of our bodies. Were we
careless, we could expect to hear about it –
sometimes immediately. Consequently, we exerted
mindfulness over our thoughts – at all times. Even
then, he could usually find something to lecture us
about, and always with good reason. Inevitably, at
least one monk among us gave Ãcariya Mun cause to
speak out. During the evening meeting, Ãcariya Mun
might speak in a scolding tone about some rather
strange affair that seemed to make no sense. As soon
as the meeting adjourned, the monks would quietly
ask around to find out whose thoughts he was
censuring that day. Eventually one of the monks
confessed that, as strange as it might seem, he
actually had been thinking such nonsense. Living
with Ãcariya Mun was a wonderful experience,
for fear of
him always promoted a mindful attitude within each
of us.”

This ãcariya told me that when he first arrived in
Chiang Mai, he went to stay at one of the local
monasteries. Having been there less than an hour, he
saw a car pull into the monastery grounds and come
to a stop right in front of the hut he had just
moved into

“When I looked out to see who had come, there was
Ãcariya Mun! Hurrying down to receive him, I
respectfully asked why he had come. He replied
without hesitation that he came to pick me up. He
said that he knew the night before that I would be
coming. I asked if someone had informed him that I
would be arriving in Chiang Mai. He replied that it
was beside the point how he learned of it – he knew
about it and wanted to be here, so he just came on
his own. Hearing that, I became apprehensive. And
the more I considered the
implications,
the more apprehensive I grew.
Later, when
I was living with him,
all my fears were
confirmed.

“If our minds were free of conceited opinions when
we received his Dhamma discourse, then we became
pleasantly absorbed in listening. His entire
discourse was Dhamma – pure and simple; and it
engaged our full attention more than anything else
we had ever heard. On the other hand, if a monk
listened half-heartedly, burdened by the weight of
worldly thoughts,
then we soon perceived fire in his discourse,
and the offending monk would
promptly
feel the heat. In giving a talk, Ãcariya Mun was not
concerned about whose kilesas his words might
disturb – his Dhamma rushed to confront the kilesas
at just that point where they were most prolific.

“Occasionally, he did identify a monk by name,
confronting him directly. ‘Why were you meditating
like that last night? That’s not the right way to
meditate, you must do it this way’ Or, ‘Why were you
thinking like that this morning? If you want to
avoid being ruined by such
harmful
thinking, then don’t think like that again. Why
don’t you think and act in ways that the Lord Buddha
has taught us? What’s the matter with you? We’re
here to train ourselves in the way of Dhamma in
order to get rid of wrong attitudes and erroneous
thinking. We are not here to indulge our thoughts,
burning ourselves with them the way you’ve been
doing.’ Those who wholeheartedly accepted the truth,
lived contentedly with him, and he didn’t say much
to them. But any
furtiveness caused him deep
misgivings,
as though the
offending thoughts were fire burning him, and he
would suddenly make a surprising comment about it.
If, however, the monk realized his mistake and
changed his attitude, then nothing further was said
and the matter rested there.”